SPH Experiences: My Wife
By guy_for_stuff.
She was rummaging through the pantry when she called out from the kitchen, “Hey, can you check the expiration date on that pack of ground beef in the back of the fridge? I think it’s been sitting there forever.”
I wandered over, opened the door, and pulled out the plastic-wrapped meat, squinting at the date stamped on it. “Looks good for another week,” I said, sliding it back onto the shelf.
As I pushed it in, she glanced over and added, “Put the meat further in, like it was. It’s colder in the back.”
I couldn’t help myself—the double entendre was too perfect. With a grin, I straightened up and shot back, “I’ll put the meat further in, alright.”
She burst out laughing, her eyes dropping straight to my crotch like a heat-seeking missile. “You wish,” she said, her voice dripping with that mocking amusement that always hits me right in the gut.
My face flushed hot, and I felt my dick stir in my pants, pressing against the fabric as if it had a mind of its own. She knew exactly what she was doing, dismissing my advance before it even started, reminding me that my ‘meat’ wasn’t worth the hype. I mumbled something lame and retreated to the living room, my heart pounding with that delicious shame. All morning, every time I passed her in the hallway, she’d smirk, and I’d have to adjust myself discreetly, already leaking a bit of precum at the thought of her gaze on my inadequacy.
By afternoon, the anticipation had built into a full throb. We’d agreed earlier to squeeze in some ‘sexy time’ before the kids got back from school—nothing elaborate, just a quick release for her while I worked from home. I wrapped up a client call with about thirty minutes to spare, my mind racing ahead to the bedroom. I bolted toward the bathroom to rinse off the day’s sweat, but she spotted me from the bed where she was lounging, already stripped naked, her curves on full display under the sheets as she scrolled through her phone. “You don’t have time for that,” she said casually, pointing right at her shaved pussy with one finger. “And no need for you to shower anyway—no one’s touching that today.”
Her words stung just right, a casual shutdown that made my stomach twist with humiliation. I stripped down quickly, my four-inch cock springing up hard and eager, the head already glistening. She didn’t even glance at it, just kept watching her show as I grabbed her favorite toy from the nightstand drawer—the big black dildo, easily eight inches long and thick as my wrist, veined and realistic in all the ways I’m not. I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself between her legs, and she spread them wide without a word. I slicked the dildo with lube, then eased it into her pussy, watching her lips stretch around its girth. She let out a soft sigh, still focused on the TV, as I leaned in and flicked my tongue over her clit.
I worked her steadily, thrusting the dildo in and out with one hand while my mouth sucked and licked her swollen nub. Her hips bucked a little as she got closer, her breath coming faster, but her eyes stayed glued to the screen. Just as she was teetering on the edge, she reached down, tangled her fingers in my hair, and murmured, “I bet you wish this were your dick inside me. Go on, tell me how much you want this pussy.” Her voice was husky and commanding, and it sent a jolt straight to my balls.
I pulled back just enough to gasp, “God, yes—I want your pussy so bad. Please, let me have it.” The words tumbled out, pathetic and desperate, my face burning as I admitted how inadequate I felt next to that massive toy buried in her.
She moaned then, her body clenching around the dildo as she came hard, her juices coating my hand and chin. I kept licking through it, savoring the way she shuddered, my own dick throbbing untouched against the mattress, a wet spot forming on the sheets from my dripping precum.
When she finished, she pushed me away gently and rolled onto her side, patting the space behind her. I spooned up against her, my hard little dick nestling against her ass cheek, begging for friction. But she ignored it completely, picking up the remote to change the channel. Minutes ticked by like that—me grinding subtly, hoping for some acknowledgment, her body warm and relaxed against mine. Finally, she reached back lazily, her hand brushing over my underwear where my cock strained. She squeezed it once, then pulled away with a wrinkle of her nose.
“Eww, it’s wet,” she said, smearing the slick precum across my thigh like it was nothing.
I groaned, the humiliation making my dick pulse even harder, but she just chuckled and settled back in, leaving me aching. The clock was ticking down—kids would be home any minute—so she sat up, stretching languidly.
“That was fun,” she said, as we’d just shared a casual coffee. I propped myself on an elbow, my dick still tenting my shorts obscenely.
“Don’t I get any touches?” I asked, voice small and hopeful.
She shook her head, that smirk playing on her lips again. “No. Only slaps.”
Before I could protest, her hand darted out, delivering a sharp smack to my bulge. It stung, the impact making my balls tighten, but the pain mixed with pleasure in that twisted way I crave. She slapped it again, harder, watching my face contort. “See? That’s all you get.” One more firm whack, and she pulled her hand back. “I’m done. Now go wash my toy.”
I stood there for a second, dazed, my dick deflating slightly under the assault but still leaking, my balls turning blue. Reluctantly, I grabbed the dildo—slick with her cum—and headed to the bathroom, the sound of her laughter following me. As I rinsed it under the faucet, soaping it thoroughly, I could feel the frustration building, but so was the arousal. My hand itched to stroke myself, but I knew better. She’d probably slap that away, too, if she caught me. Drying the dildo off, I tucked it back in the drawer and pulled on my clothes just as the front door opened with the kids’ voices.
The rest of the day dragged, my mind replaying every tease, every denial. By evening, as we put the kids to bed, I caught her eye across the room, that knowing glint promising maybe—just maybe—more fun tonight. If it means more of her mocking my pathetic dick, more slaps and ignored erections while she rides that dildo to bliss, I’m all in. It’s humiliating as hell, but damn if it doesn’t make me harder than anything else.
The End.
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